Independence
by MaryJohn
Summary: Shawn Michaels regains his freedom.


He is twenty three and he knows everything.

The world has no surprises.

He is the toughest man alive, and the strongest.

Nothing in life's pagent is beyond his experience.

Shawn Michaels doesn't need anything. Not even this job, He wants it, that is another thing from needing. The older man really ought to know this,but he doesn't. His smile is appreciative, sweeping and Shawn knows what HE wants. He's not going to get it. Not for a job or for any other reason will he be with Vince McMahon. In the end, though, the Chairman relents and he gets the job. It's enough just to have the Icon near for now. It's a game, they'll play it together. Vince won't get to touch, but Shawn doesn't care if he watches.

He is twenty eight today, but he doesn't know or care. Shawn hasn't been outside the hotel room for a full day. He's unconscious alot now, that's the way he wants it. He's going to be suspended, or sent home or something, but still, he doesn't need it. It's a job. He just wants it, he only needs the stuff. He needs the stuff so he can be better. So he won't hurt so bad. Vince has lots of stuff. Vince is a freakin Pied Piper of pills. He's got them all, lined up in a row, but Shawn doesn't need them. He's got his own. Vince can go to hell and take his damn pills and his job with him.

He is thirty seven and he's in terrible financial shape. He's married now, with children, and now, he's clean. That makes this even harder because he can't take the pills and go away. He needs this now. He needs money and he needs this comeback. Vince knows. Finally, after all these years, he's going to get what he wants. He watches, salivating, as Shawn takes off his clothes. He's going to submit, but he won't be willing. In the end, he can't take it. Shawn cries like a child at the intruding eyes and hands. He's inside, tearing Shawn up and humiliating him with vulgar whispers. He wants the pills, so he can forget, so he think of something..anything as the man shoots allover him, covering his face in...It's revolting. In the end, he actually begs. Vince taunts him with an empty bottle. In the end, just to survive, he learns to tolerate the invasions, to antisipate, to endure, then, finally to like them. He can't even say he's high. Soon, Vince tires of screwing him, and just screws WITH him.

He is forty two and now he's utterly broke. He's lost it all in a bad investment. He's too old, he's too used up to work for it again. He has no sweet prize to offer Vince, he has already yielded everything. Shawn is broken and he's desperate. He doesn't believe the Cowboy when he says he only wants help to win the title. Somewhere, sometime,IT will happen. For weeks, Shawn watches John Bradshaw Layfield's every move, waiting for the man to strike. Every night, the man nodds to Shawn, then turns his back to undress. Every night, Shawn waits. Every night, the man returns from his match, showers and dresses once more. He doesn't even glance at Shawn, even when the Showstopper is naked. It's a cruel game, crueler than any Vince ever played.

Shawn watches, he waits, and soon, he imagines. Each day, each night, each moment, he thinks of Layfield's hands on his body. Each day he remains untouched and unseen. Finally, he can take no more. He is forty two and past caring about his pride. He wants it over. He watches, deliberately as Layfield removed his clothes. No subtefuge. No glancing, pretending, just a hard stare. After a moment, the man feels his gaze and finally, he looks at Shawn. His eyes don't travel, but Shawn makes sure that Layfield sees that his do. The man actually starts for a moment but he is ignored. Shawn is tired of playing this new, innocent, Idontreallywantyou game.

He just needs it to be over. John doesn't expect the superkick and he hits the lockers hard. In that instant, Shawn climbs on top of him, kissing his neck, stroking his chest, demanding, shouting. _Just do it. Do it now. Just get it over with._ In the end, he sobs on the semi-conscious man's shoulder as he grinds his erection against him. Layfield is still playing, even with eyes glazed over, he still pretends. His mouth falls open in "shock" and he pushes Shawn off, into the floor. _Just do it_. The Icon screams again. _I know you will, I know you will. Do it now_. He sobs, rolling over onto his knees, offering his entrance. _Do it. Do it. Do IT._ Then something brushes against his back and buttocks, John's hands slide around his waist. Shawn sighs and sobs intertwine until he realises that a towel has been secured around him. His chin is lifted as he hears Layfield's whispers. _I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to hurt you. Get up off the ground._ Shawn is lifted, carried, sat down. _It's not like that, Shawn. I promise that will not happen. God in heaven, who did this to you?_ Shawn is unable to speak. He is too ashamed.

He is forty two and rich once more, free of Vince, of this job, forever. There is no doubt in his mind that Layfield allowed him to win. As he walks up the aisle, recieving the cheers and the love of his wife, he glances back at the man in the ring. Shawn still imagines, but it's not exactly the same. Backstage, he kisses the Cowboys cheek, weeping in gratitude. There is something between them now, even though the man won't touch him, his eyes still speak. In the end, Shawn whispers it in his ear. It may be all they have, and all they ever will, but it's enough. He loves the man.

The End


End file.
